Tokyo, Japan
July 15
Fitzduane felt a definite lump in his throat as he prepared to say farewell to the line of Japanese facing him in the VIP departure lounge at TokyoAirport.
It was ridiculous – he had known them only a few weeks – but there it was. The bonds were strong and the relationships, tested under the most extreme circumstances, would endure. For the rest of his life, he would be linked in some important but indefinable way to Japan and to his friends there.
He smiled to himself for a moment as he noticed that the line of well-wishers was ranked in order of seniority. Adachi's father, trim and upright, and bearing a remarkable resemblance to his dead son; Yoshokawa- san and his wife, bring back memories of Kamakura; the Spider in the full uniform of the Deputy Superintendent of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police; the young airship copilot, Inspector Miko Ueda, who had performed so magnificently under fire; the lined and seasoned face of Sergeant Akamatsu from the police koban; and Sergeant Oga and all of the twenty-three men and women who had served on his bodyguard at various times.
It was just as well that Tokyo was a peaceful city. The duty roster of the Tokyo MPD was at the moment depleted.
There was no sign of Chifune, and he missed her very much. But typically, Tanabu- san was elusive and independent to the last.
The boarding announcement was made, and as if that was the agreed-upon signal, the entire line suddenly broke into three cheers – " Banzai! Banzai! Banzai! " – and then, faces frozen in formal expressions, bowed deeply.
Fitzduane, draped in farewell gifts, bowed in return. And the line bowed and he bowed, and the process might have gone on indefinitely if a Virgin Airlines hostess had not tactfully intervened.
His mind in something of a jumble of emotions, Fitzduane made his way to his first-class seat in the front of the aircraft. There was a beautifully wrapped package on the seat, but he ignored it until he had put his belongings away, assuming it belonged to another passenger. Then he saw that the package was addressed to him.
He smelled her perfume and the scent of her body before she spoke, and a sharp feeling of both longing and loss went through him. He turned around. And there she was: luscious black hair, perfect skin, huge eyes, breasts he could feel against his lips, the body of a lover. A beautiful and extraordinary woman. And an enigma.
"It's for Boots," she said. "A soft toy, a cuddly sumo wrestler. I think he will like him." Chifune hesitated. "Or is he too big for such things?"
Fitzduane thought of Boots and what he felt like in his arms and suddenly was impatient to be home again. "No," he said, with a smile, "he's not too big for cuddly toys. He's only three. He's still a very cuddly boy."
Chifune was silent at first, and Fitzduane was acutely conscious of all that was unsaid that was passing between them. There were tears in her eyes, and as he watched, one trickled down her cheek.
"That's what I remembered," she said.
A newly boarded passenger pushed by with an apology, and Chifune winced.
"How is the arm?" he said. It had not been a serious wound, but being shot was never much fun.
"Healing," she said with a slight smile, "but still a little tender."
Fitzduane was forcibly reminded that the aircraft was leaving shortly. He asked the obvious question, already knowing the answer.
"Chifune," he said. "Are you traveling, too?"
Chifune shook her head. "I wanted to see you alone, Hugo," she said. She smiled again amid the tears. "With Koancho, such things as boarding a departing aircraft can be arranged. But I have to go now."
"Or they'll make you work your passage," said Fitzduane, with a smile he had to force. He felt a terrible sense of loss, but also knew somehow that this was not the time to say anything.
He moved forward and held out his arms to embrace her but Chifune stepped back. "No, Fitzduane- san," she sobbed. And then she bowed deeply and was gone.
And then Fitzduane saw Adachi, which was impossible for he was dead, and he smiled and felt tears come to his cheeks. Then Adachi reached out his hand and Fitzduane took it and his grip was firm and warm. "My friends call me Aki," he said, and then Adachi too vanished.
Fitzduane was deeply moved. He put Boots's present on the seat beside him and fought to get a grip on his emotions. He thought of Christian de Guevain and Mike Bergin and Aki Adachi and other comrades-in-arms and how honored he had been to fight beside them and how irreplaceable they were. He thought of Etan and Chifune and the other women he had known and loved. And he thought of those who were still living and of Kilmara's words:
“I have no answers, but much to do.”
He slept and dreamed extraordinary dreams, and when he woke the hostess was leaning over him to remind him about his seat belt and they were approaching London. One more plane flight and he would be in Dublin. And then he would board the Islander and fly to the West and he would be home.